Price of the Fates
by derevkobristow-spawn
Summary: Sometimes, she’d wish that everything turned out to be different. There were times when she’d wish that she could go back and change some things, even though she knew that it would never happen. Be careful what you wish for. Post S5... or is it?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Alias, the characters and every brand you recognize. The original characters are mine, though. MINE. lulz.

Enjoy XD

~*~*~

Sometimes, she'd wish that everything turned out to be a little different – she'd wonder if Jack and Irina would be doting grandparents to her children, or if Nadia would be an indulging aunt. Sometimes, she'd wish that Irina… her mother… didn't turn out to be as deranged as Sloane. She'd sometimes wish that her mother didn't die on that building.

There was a little part of her that actually believed that if everything had been different, they would have a semblance of a happy family. There were times when she'd wish that she could go back and change some things, even though she knew that it would never happen.

But sometimes she'd catch herself wondering.

What if?

~*~*~

_2012_

_Three hours after Dixon left_

Sydney slowly traced the hard ridge of the photo album and stared at the yellowed pictures in front her. Her parents' beaming faces looked up at her and she suddenly felt sadness overcoming her whole being.

Why did she always do this? Every time she saw Dixon, she felt compelled to pull out her family pictures - the ones with her dad, her mom and her sister - and gaze at them for hours. It always made her feel sad and it also made her feel guilty because there was a part of her that felt she caused their deaths.

'_Syd, stop doing this to yourself._'

"So, Jack's asleep and Isabelle's in bed." Vaughn sank beside her on the couch and leaned back.

"Hmm…" She replied but didn't tear her eyes away from the photographs.

Vaughn observed her. Sydney seemed to be in her own world when she's looking at her old family albums. There were times when she'd share a memory about a picture, but most of the time, she'd be quiet. He must admit that sometimes, this behavior worried him but every time he brought it up, she'd smile at him and tell him that everything was fine.

"Syd?" he said softly after a few minutes.

Sydney blinked before focusing her attention on her husband, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked, a bit confused. Did he ask something or did he just say her name?

"I didn't say anything. I'm only… worried about you." Vaughn answered, "Again." he added and gave her a grin.

She saw his concern and she replaced the serious expression on her face with a small smile, "I'm fine. It's just that…" she trailed off and her face turned serious again.

"What is it?"

Sydney took a deep breath and sighed. He would get upset after he hears what she's going to say, "Recently, I've been feeling down and I can't help but feel…" she trailed off and shook her head, "Everything is going smoothly and perfect and I don't know, I can't explain it, but something not right."

Vaughn's brows knotted as he shook his head. He cupped Sydney's face with his hands and gazed directly in her eyes, "Don't do this to yourself, Syd. It isn't fair."

"They shouldn't have died."

"But they did. And we can't change that." He paused and caressed her cheek, "Your dad… Nadia… they wouldn't want you to beat yourself up with what happened."

Tears began to pool in Sydney's eyes, "I miss them. Even mom." She whispered, as if ashamed of what she just said

Vaughn kissed the top of her forehead. Sydney came from a dysfunctional family, but it made her into a wonderful person. She shouldn't be ashamed if she missed Jack, Nadia… and Irina.

"You won't be able to keep yourself from missing them," he replied, "Even if it's been almost six years."

"I know." She answered and closed the photo album. She smiled at her husband before she kissed him. Vaughn pulled her in an embrace.

She didn't tell him, however, that she also felt like something's going to go very wrong.

~*~*~

_(Somewhere around the world)_

There was already a long-stemmed rose lying by the gravestone when they arrived. She bit her lip and swallowed the lump of tears on her throat before putting the basket of wildflowers by grave.

"I see that Julian got here before us."

She glanced at the older woman beside her and nodded her head. She then took out the candles from her bag, lighted them and placed it by the grave.

"Are you alright, child?"

She nodded her head again. It's been 40 days since the death of the woman she considered to be her mother and she hadn't uttered a complete sentence to anyone since then. When her parents died nine years ago, she didn't talk to anyone for almost two years; this loss might impel her to live a life of a mute forever.

"Julian told me that you haven't talked to him or to anyone else for five weeks now."

She didn't say anything and looked down on the ground instead.

The older woman sighed, "Don't do this to yourself."

Tears flooded her eyes. She tried to blink them back but they fell down on her cheeks anyway.

"I know you miss her." The accent in the older woman's voice was soft and somewhat soothing, "I miss her too."

She glanced up and saw the same sorrow reflected on the woman's face. She suddenly felt worse when she realized that she was being selfish again. She was so full of herself that she forgot about the people around her.

"I'm sorry…" she murmured sincerely, "It was a selfish thing to do."

"You don't have to apologize. We all handle grief differently. I just thought it would be more helpful to you if you talked to someone." Her gaze was soft as she caressed the girl's cheek.

"Okay." She answered, "Who do you want me to talk to?"

"Anyone you want."

She didn't say anything after that. After a few minutes, they both stood by the grave in silence. She didn't pay attention to the sounds around her and focused on quietly saying prayers for the dead.

'…I know I shouldn't feel sad because you're in a better place now, probably with the guy you loved so much… Jack, right?' her thoughts wandered off even before she said Amen. She didn't really believe in heaven or in hell since you can't believe in just one (how can you do good things if you know that whatever you do, you'll end up in heaven?). Catholic upbringing told her that saintly people go to heaven; the wicked go to hell. The person she was thinking about, the person she was praying for… she was neither.

In her opinion, people create their own afterlife.

'…I know you're happy. And safe.'

Her companion gently touched her shoulder, "The car's here, sweetheart."

She glanced behind her and saw a black Pontiac coming round the corner. She then brought her attention back at her companion, "Okay."

Both of them looked at the gravestone again.

_Irina Derevko_

_22 March 1951 - 12 May 2012_

"See you soon."

Her companion wrapped an arm around her shoulder before they turned around and walked away.


	2. A Harmless Dream

**CHAPTER ONE**

_2012_

_Six months later_

Golden grains of sand trailed from the porch to almost all parts of the room on the first floor. Outside, the ocean was calm; the salty breeze, on the other hand, entered the house and blew softly on the curtains.

Michael Vaughn (he decided to go by that name, considering that he'd been using it almost all his life) was in the kitchen, washing the dishes. From where he was standing, he could see his son playing in the play pen while his daughter was in the middle of the living room, reading a book with his wife.

Even though he and Sydney aid the CIA every once in a while, they are living a normal life. Yes, they have a complex security system designed by Marshall and a secret cache of guns in their basement, but they have normal jobs, he and Sydney have friends that don't traipse around the world brandishing guns and fake passports. They had a sense of normalcy in their homes and in their lives.

He was smiling when he joined his wife and children a few minutes later. He lounged beside Isabelle and listened to her as she read "The Princess and the Pea" out loud. Vaughn observed his daughter, fascinated. He couldn't believe that Isabelle had already turned six-years-old. It seemed only like yesterday when he first cradled her in his arms. His little girl was growing up too fast.

'She won't be dating until after ten years, so stop worrying.' He thought as he paid attention to Isabelle. She would frown whenever she concentrated – something she got from Sydney – and it was exhilarating to watch her.

"Daddy, do all princesses feel a pea under hundreds of mattresses?" Isabelle's voice cut short his thoughts. He looked at his daughter and saw a pair of inquisitive hazel eyes peering at him, waiting.

Vaughn looked at Sydney, who broke out in a grin, "Uh, I guess so, sweetie." He answered when he brought his gaze back to the little girl, "But there aren't too many princesses in the world right now."

His daughter's eyes lighted up, "Can I be a princess if I feel a pea under hundreds of mattresses?"

Sydney stroked the six-year-old's hair, "Where will you find hundreds of mattresses, Isabelle?" she asked and looked at Jack, who seemed to be engrossed with the beanie bear in his crib.

Isabelle's brows furrowed and her lips pouted as she thought of an answer. After a few minutes, she shook her head and gave a dramatic sigh, "I don't need hundreds of mattresses. I'm going to be an astronaut when I grow up." She said with such conviction that it made Vaughn smile. The seemingly genetic (and infamous) Bristow stubbornness was already manifesting.

"Mommy, may we read _Alice in Wonderland_ next?" she asked Sydney after a few minutes. His wife obliged, thrilled that her daughter was interested in reading books.

He was content with their life – if he could just live like this forever, he'd do it.

Suddenly, he felt the hair at the back of his neck rising. The distinct feeling that they were being watched alerted his senses. His body tensed before he sat up straight and looked around.

After a few minutes, Vaughn stood up and went outside. He breathed in the salty air as he surveyed his surroundings. He couldn't see anything wrong and everything was in place, but his unease was growing by the minute. He stared at the ocean, knowing that it was where danger lurked.

He stood by steps looking at the beach. The ocean was still; it didn't say anything about the dread he felt.

The wind blew stronger and grew colder. The weather was starting to change gradually, a sign that the seasons were changing. Fall was swiftly approaching.

After a few minutes, Vaughn started to go inside, but before he passed the doorway, he looked behind him and shook his head.

Maybe there really was nothing to worry about.

_Somewhere in Asia_

Heaps of paper are scattered around by her feet. There were three trash bags a few feet away from her and a long-handled mop leaned at the far end of the wall. There were two rags, a white one, which was dry, on top of the table and a yellow one, which was wet, on the floor. There was also music playing, which made the task of cleaning the room a little bit bearable— just a bit.

She walked around the mess, going back and forth to the trash bags and to the table. She could feel sweat sliding through her nape and onto her back. The room was a little bit hot. She probably had to install an air-conditioning unit.

She looked around. The room, with its green walls, dark brown cabinets and double-sized bed, had to be ready in three days. The installation might probably take a week.

'A heavy duty electric fan should probably do the trick.' She thought as she picked up the wet rag on the floor and started wiping all the dusty surfaces. Though she lived in this country almost all her life, she never got used to the humid climate.

"It's almost eleven in the evening, and instead of resting, this is what you're doing?" a familiar voice asked, "Is this going to be the little girl's room?"

She looked up from her cleaning and saw a tall, blond man leaning by the doorway. Her eyes lit up, "You're here." She said as she walked towards him, "I thought you'd be arriving tomorrow."

He looked at her. Her shirt was worn out and her shorts were… short. There was sweat by her brows and her cheeks were pink. Though she looked tired, he knew that she was happy to see him, "Well, love, I got an early flight out of Mongolia."

"Yeah, this will be little girl's room. How was Mongolia?" she put the yellow rag on the chair and wiped her hands on her shirt.

"Uneventful. No one died and we got him out." He replied as she turned off the music player, "He'll be arriving here tomorrow. As with Katya."

Amusement appeared on her face, "It seems to be that we have to be in our best behavior tomorrow." She remarked playfully and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"If you're hungry, there's food in the ref." she flicked off the lights and looked at him, "I need a shower."

She turned around but he caught her wrist and gently pulled her towards him. He dipped his head and kissed her deeply.

"Did you miss me, Katarina?" he whispered when he pulled his lips away from her.

"Of course I missed you." She softly answered. She angled her head and asked, "Why?"

His clear, blue eyes met her tired, brown ones. After a few seconds, she suddenly smiled. It was like a punch in his gut and he unconsciously held her closer, tighter.

"You're smiling."

"So?" she quizzically replied.

"You haven't smiled like that in the last six months." Her grin vanished as quickly as it appeared. He immediately regretted what he said, "I'm sorry… don't-"

"It's okay." She shrugged, "I tend to mope around." Another shrug, "You should have said something."

"You were mourning." He tried to offer words of solace, but he didn't know how, "It wasn't right for me to just, say something."

"Julian." She stressed his name, sounding almost desperate to change the topic. She had busied herself in all kinds of things to forget about the death of Irina Derevko so that she could just stop crying in the middle of the day. She couldn't afford to think about this now, especially since something larger than her is about to happen, "Never mind." She sighed.

He didn't let go of her hand. She didn't think he would have noticed that she never genuinely smiled in the last six months. He didn't seem like the person who noticed anything that didn't pertain to him.

"I really need to take a shower." She said finally. He then released her wrist after a few seconds and wordlessly walked away.

_California_

The security system was online when he turned off the lights of the living room. The only source of light on the first floor was the one on the porch. Sydney liked the porch light on – she said it made the house feel welcoming at night. And besides, Isabelle liked going down to the kitchen at odd hours in the morning. They were both afraid that she might trip in the dark.

The ocean was singing its lullaby and the wind was whispering its soothing words. They were telling him to let go of his worries, but at the same time, warning him of the dangers that they harbored.

He went to the glass French doors and looked outside. Everything was… calm.

"Mike?" Sydney's voice came from upstairs.

"Yeah, coming." He answered. He shook his head, 'Vaughn, stop your paranoia.' He mentally berated himself as he made his way to the stairs.

The digital clock on her side table flashed the numbers 12:30 and told her that it's been two hours since she slipped in the bed and tried to sleep. She couldn't figure out what was stopping her from drifting off.

'It's coming…'

She lay perfectly still on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Vaughn snored quietly beside her. Darkness engulfed them. When Vaughn told her that he felt like he was in a dangerous situation with no way out, she knew that something dark was on the way. She felt this dread six months ago and she was feeling it right now. She did her best to assure Vaughn, though, because she knew it would make everything worse if she told him that she felt the same way. They couldn't afford to lose their heads at the same time.

'It's coming…'

_What's coming?_

It was her unconscious that was repeating the phrases. She didn't know what it meant or who she was referring, but she repeated the phrase over and over, anyway.

'It's coming.'

Sydney sighed and turned to her side. She could hear the steady hum of the ocean coming in from the windows. After a few minutes of listening to the rhythm of the waters, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

---

The strong winds were whipping her hair to her face. Rough stones were under her feet. The air she breathed burned her lungs, her throat, and she felt light, so light.

She was at the edge of a cliff. Its height from the ground was dizzying, terrifying. There was nothing below, or perhaps, she was too far up that she couldn't see anything underneath.

"Jump." A woman's voice said.

She glanced to her side and saw a young woman staring at her. She narrowed her eyes, unsure about what she had just heard, "Excuse me?"

_"Jump. It's not going to hurt."_

A clash of lighting and thunder. She looked above and saw that the skies were the color of blood and vultures were circling the area.

She glanced back at the woman, "I'm not going to—" but stopped because she wasn't there anymore.

"Sydney?"

The sound of a familiar voice made her whirl around. A tall man with steel-gray hair was standing a few feet away from her, with a puzzled look on his face. She swore she felt her heart stop when confusion and joy rushed through her.

"Daddy?" she ran towards him and crashed into his arms. She held him tight, not really believing what she saw and heard.

"Sweetheart." Her father said. She felt him embracing her tighter, "What are you doing here?"

"What?" she replied and gently pulled away from him, "What do you mean?"

Her father warily looked around. Worriedly, he shook his head and began to pull her away from where they stood, "Let's go. It's not safe here."

She couldn't understand it, but they started to run. For a while, she didn't really know where they were running towards, but suddenly, a flash of bright light blinded her. She stumbled forward, but her father caught her just before she fell on the floor.

She blinked. There was a floor? They were running on rocks a while ago.

Baffled, she looked around. There weren't any doors but somehow, her father had pulled her inside a building because they are now in a middle of a hallway.

"You're not supposed to be in here." Her father's voice was stern. His back was turned away from her and he was already a few feet off. She hurried towards his side and wrapped her arm around his, as if she won't ever let him go.

He still wore the same clothes he was wearing the last time she saw him. The blood stains and the bullet holes on his shirt were still there and he seemed a little grimy.

"This is a dream." She stated as they walked through the hallway, "_My_ dream. I think I'm allowed to be in it."

Her father shook his head, "This is not your dream, sweetheart."

"Then whose dream is it?" she asked, incredulous.

"I don't know." He answered, "I really don't know."

They continued to walk. They didn't really talk. She couldn't bring herself to speak and she just wanted to be with her father. Yes, it had been a long time, but somehow, she felt like she was going to see him again. Soon.

She continued to look around as they went farther the hallway. It seemed endless, "Where are we going, dad?" she asked, looking at him.

He gave her a resigned smile, "Somewhere safe."

After what seemed like an eternity, a door appeared to their right. The hallway stretched out far beyond and she was thankful that they didn't have to walk to the far end.

"You can't stay here, Sydney." Her father said, sighing, "It's not safe for you."

"Dad-"

"I'm serious." He interjected, "At the far end of this hallway is the way out of this place. Run as fast as you can and don't look back. Do you understand me?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a child's voice.

"Daddy, I can't open the door!"

She turned towards the voice and was shocked to see her six-year-old self, in braids and a yellow sundress, standing behind her.

"What are you doing outside?" her father's tone sounded aghast. He hurriedly scooped the little girl up and walked towards the door, "Didn't I tell you not to go outside the door?"

The little girl burrowed her face in her father's neck, something she remembered doing when she was that age. "I'm sorry, daddy." She couldn't believe her eyes. Her six-year-old self was here? "I heard you tell mommy that you'll go out. I just wanted to say goodbye…" What? Her mother was here too?

"Mom's here?" she almost choked on her words, "She's here? Can I see her?"

"Sydney-"

"Dad, please. I need to see Mom." She pleaded, "You keep saying this is a dangerous place for me. I'll go after I see mom."

Her father sighed, knowing too well that she would be stubborn about this. Her six-year-old self was now looking at her, almost in fascination.

"Fine." He said. He then knocked on the door twice and after a few seconds, the door opened slightly.

"Mommy!"

"Oh, sweetheart." She heard her mother's voice before she saw her. Her six-year-old self leaned forward to a pair of arms and her father gently passed the little girl to the unseen person.

"Mommy, the lady calls daddy, daddy too."

Her mother turned to face her. She looked very different from the last time she saw her. Her hair was swept up, and she was wearing a white blouse over brown Capri pants.

"Sydney?" she stood by the doorway, agape. Her six-year-old self squirmed in her mother's arms.

"I'm here, Mommy." The little girl said. Her mother gave the child a kiss on the forehead and set her down on the floor.

"There's a plate of cookies in the kitchen." She said to the child in a soft (almost conspiratorial) tone, "You can get one." The six-year-old's face lighted up and she scrambled inside the room.

Her mother turned towards her again, "What are you doing here?" Deep concern was seeping in her tone, "Are you dead?" she reached out to stroke her face. Sydney closed her eyes and touched her mother's hand. She was _real_.

"No, I'm not dead." She answered, "Not yet."

Her mother stared at her, "Then you shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

"Mom, this is a dream."

Her mother looked at her father for a split second before she looked back at her, "This is not just a dream." She stepped out of the doorway and embraced her, "I love you, sweetheart, but you have to leave."

As soon as she said those words, there was a heavy rumble. The walls began to shake. It was as if there was an earthquake.

"Irina, get inside." Her father said. He was already holding her mother's wrist, "Sydney, just run. Run as fast as you can."

The floor started to tremble. She couldn't understand what was dangerous about this. Her mother gave her a push as her father pulled her inside the room, "Run Sydney. And don't look back."

"RUN!"

The trembling started to become more violent. A shock suddenly went through her and she started to run. She ran quickly, ran as fast as her legs could take her. Her father said that the way out was at the end of the hallway. She must get to the end.

Another flash of blinding intensity. She used her arms to shield her eyes and she felt herself tumbling to the ground.

Jagged little pebbles scratched her arms, but she didn't feel any pain. She stood up and realized that the ground was still shaking. She frantically looked around. Was this the end of the hallway, the exit? It seemed that she was on the same cliff she was at a while ago.

"You can't run away from fate, Sydney." Her blood ran cold upon hearing that voice. She slowly turned around.

Sloane.

"You have a destiny. Don't fight it."

Thunder clapped in her ear. Fire raged in the skies. She couldn't bring herself to move. The land was breaking beneath her and she couldn't budge from her position.

Suddenly, by the corner of her eye, she saw a woman (the same woman she saw a while ago) running towards her direction.

Sloane took a step forward. She couldn't take a step backward. She was by the edge of the cliff. She didn't want to fall.

"Rambaldi had plans for you. Fate-"

The woman violently tackled her and she felt herself falling down the crag.

"I told you to jump. It's not going to hurt."

_The sky fell and the last thing she could remember was the cliff eroding and Sloane watching them fall as they earth swallowed him whole._

Sydney's eyes flew open and she bolted upright almost immediately. Her breathing was labored and her senses were on alert for anything. She could hear her blood pounding in her head and could feel little beads of sweat trickling down her back.

The dream was harmless, but it unsettled her because it felt _so_ real.

Only the crash of the ocean's waves lingered. Sydney glanced at Vaughn. He didn't stir when she woke up. Thank god. She didn't want to worry him.

Sydney took a deep breath and let it out after a few seconds. Her fingers smoothed the blanket on her lap and she waited for her heart to settle down before she reclined on the bed again. A brief glance at the clock told her that it was three in the morning. She had slept for only two-and-a-half hours.

The fraction of light that streamed inside their bedroom was dancing on the ceiling. She watched it with slight wonder. She didn't realize that even that little a light could make such astonishing shadows on a flat surface.

A few minutes later, her eyes fluttered to a close and she fell asleep.


	3. A Patient Man

_2012_

_California_

Isabelle stared at the wooden blocks that she had once again built into a tower. She was amazed that the all the blocks fit together seamlessly, but she was even more amazed with the way it tumbled down whenever she pushed it. They seemed to bounce off the floor whenever they fall.

She hadn't shown this toy to her mommy or her daddy yet. This set of blocks was her secret. She found it inside a brown box in her room one morning and since her parents weren't looking for it, she assumed that it was okay if she kept it.

They have guests today. She didn't know them, so they probably didn't work with her parents. Also, her daddy didn't seem too happy about them, especially when he talked to the blond man. Her daddy asked her to go to her room and he told her not to go out until he says she could come out. At first, she thought she did something wrong but she changed her mind when he brought Jack in her room.

A glance at the portable play pen told her that her baby brother was still asleep and that she couldn't messily pick apart the block tower. So, she took her stuffed toy bear, her stuffed toy dog and her blanket then placed it around the tower before she toppled the blocks.

Isabelle rose up to her feet and went towards the window. She peered outside and saw several speedboats by the shore. She pressed her nose on the glass pane and observed the people outside. There were a lot of men walking around and she hadn't seen so many people in their house since… well, never.

She wondered when her mommy would arrive. She went to the big people school to get something… she didn't really understand what her mom told her.

'What did mommy say? Dessert paper?'

She then began to wonder when their guests would leave. She wanted to play outside. The water was so clear and they were shimmering like crystals. A frown appeared on her face and she sighed. She couldn't wait for Jack to grow up. In that way, she didn't have to go outside and play because Jack could play with her inside the house.

Then, she heard footsteps coming towards her room. Isabelle looked outside again and saw that the men and the speedboats were still there. Did daddy change his mind? The visitors were still here.

There was a knock on the door. Isabelle hurriedly crossed the room to open it.

She peeked outside but instead of her father, a tall woman stood in by her door. She was looking at her.

"Isabelle?" the woman said in a gentle voice and kneeled down so that they could be at eye level. The woman gave her a big smile, "Hi."

Isabelle's brows creased, "You're one of my daddy's friends." The opening of the door was just a small gap.

A nod, "Yes… yes, I am. My name's Mac." She said and gazed at her. The woman had dark brown eyes, "May I come in?"

The little girl hesitated. She wasn't allowed to go outside while the guests were still here, but her daddy didn't say anything about letting guests inside her room, "My brother is asleep."

"I won't wake him. I promise, I'll be quiet."

Isabelle took a deep breath then after a while, she nodded her head, "Don't wake him, okay?" she said, trying to mimic her mother's tone as she opened the door so that the woman named Mac could come in.

Mac stepped inside. Isabelle could see that she was looking around the room and she knew that the woman saw Jack sleeping on the play pen. She also knew that her visitor saw the mess on the floor.

Isabelle then regretted that she let the woman in. It felt like someone was checking her room.

Mac bent forward and took a piece of wooden block by her foot. She examined it closely before turning towards the girl.

"You have this toy?" she asked softly and looked down.

She nodded and tilted her head to the side. There was a funny expression on the woman's face, "Why?"

"You can make it into a… into a tower?"

"Yes." Isabelle watched as Mac began to pick up the wooden blocks. She then stooped down and began to pick them up too, "My mommy said I should clean up my mess."

The woman stared at her for a while, then frowned a little. Isabelle didn't take the expression for anger but for confusion, "Of course… yeah, of course." She gave her the blocks she took and sat down next to the play pen. Jack was snoring a little bit.

Isabelle took the wooden pieces one by one and placed it inside its box. She then opened her toy trunk and placed it inside.

"You know, not a lot of people could do that."

She turned to face the woman, puzzled, "Do what?"

"Make those blocks into a tower."

The girl made a face. It was a silly thought. How could they not do it when it was a simple thing to do? Maybe if she showed it to her daddy, he could make the blocks form a tower too.

"Only a small number of people can make it into a tower. Your mommy can do it, but I don't think your daddy can." Mac said, careful not to let her voice get too loud.

"Can you do it?"

Before the woman could answer, there was a short rap on the door and they both looked at it. Before Isabelle could stand up, it creaked open and a head full of yellow hair popped in. The man glanced at Mac and said something in a language she didn't understand.

Mac took a deep breath, "Isabelle, when I went to your room, my friend brought your daddy to the hospital."

"Why? Is daddy sick?"

The woman nodded her head, "Yes, and we called up your mom and she said that she's still far away from your house. Since your mommy's not here yet, we can't leave you and your brother alone here."

"Where will we go?" Isabelle asked. A frightened expression crossed her face, "Will daddy be alright?"

The woman looked at her friend then back to her again, "Yes, of course, sweetheart. Your daddy's going to be okay." Mac smiled at her and caressed her cheek, "Don't worry." She said and began to stand up.

"You'll just be staying with us for a while until he gets better or your mommy gets home." Mac offered a hand to help the girl stand up.

"Who's going to carry Jack?" she asked as she took Mac's hand. Mac's fingers were firm but at the same time, gentle. The blond man started walk towards the play pen.

"Don't worry. My friend, Julian, will carry him." Mac answered and began to lead her out of the room.

"Wait! Can I bring Freddie along?" she asked.

"Who's Freddie?"

"My elephant." She answered and pulled her hand away to get the stuffed toy from her bed and showed it to Mac, "Daddy gave him to me."

"Sure, you can bring Freddie along." Mac answered. She then took Isabelle's free hand and they went out of her room.

Isabelle noticed that there were men on the hallway. They were big.

"Why are there so many people?"

"Oh, they're just some of the people from the hospital." Mac answered. She could feel Isabelle's eyes following her every move, so she looked at the little girl. "Have you ever ridden a helicopter before?"

She shook her head, "No." Isabelle angled her head, and unconsciously tightened her grip on Mac, "Why?"

Mac gave her a big smile, "We're going to ride one!"

~*~*~

The walls were sterile, stark, white. Every one she saw was wearing white. Everything melded with everyone and it terrified her. She had faced death countless of times and been to countless of hospitals, but not with this kind of situation. No, she had never faced something like this. She had never been robbed of a husband and children before.

At this very moment, she didn't have a clue on what to do.

The sights and sounds around her were blurred. There was nothing memorable about the things along her way. All she could think about was Vaughn and children. Just them and nothing else.

"Syd!"

It took her a few moments to realize that it was Dixon who called her out. She was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn't see that she had already passed by the sitting room.

Relief rushed through her when she saw the familiar face, "Dixon." She whispered and hurried towards him. She wouldn't be facing the doctors alone.

He greeted her with a warm and comforting embrace, "We're doing everything we can to find Isabelle and Jack." He said softly, "Mike's still in surgery."

Sydney clenched her jaw from both fear and anger. She silently prayed for her husband to pull through the surgery as she stayed in her friend's embrace. She also prayed that her children were safe.

She was the first to pull away, "Do we know who did this?"

"No." Dixon shook his head and led her to the chairs, "Higher ups have given us a team to work on the case." Everyone who was friends with Sydney and Vaughn were helping them with the search.

Sydney blinked back the tears forming around her eyes. She couldn't think of anyone who'd gain anything by killing Vaughn and kidnapping their children. She didn't have anything to offer.

"We'll help you all the way, Syd. Have no doubt about that."

She mustered a smile for Dixon, "Thank you." She said and touched his arm as they sat down, "This all means a lot to me."

He gave her a small smile. After a while, they sat in silence, both were lost in their thoughts. Sydney didn't keep track of time—she didn't want to think about how long the surgery would take. Every minute seemed to stretch out like eternity.

'No news about Vaughn… no news about Isabelle and Jack…' every thought that came to her mind had an awful tinge to them. She couldn't think of anything positive.

"Mrs. Vaughn?"

Sydney's head snapped up. A doctor was standing in front of her. Her heart started to race as she quickly stood up, "Yes, doctor?" The doctor looked tired. She began to wonder what took the surgery so long.

"The surgery went fine. We took out three bullets. One grazed his lung but the other two missed the… other vital organs." The doctor took in a deep breath as if readying herself to bring out the awful news, "Mr. Vaughn made it through the surgery, but he's still in a very critical condition and we don't know if…"

Her chest tightened and suddenly, she couldn't hear what the doctor was saying. The doctor was making it sound hopeful but she knew what she meant.

"I'm not saying that you should lose hope, but your husband's statistics are not too bright…"

"We need to wait." Sydney's voice was listless. Vaughn had a greater chance of dying than living. The odds were against him.

She didn't hear what the rest of the doctor said. All she could remember, aside from Vaughn's condition, was the doctor's name: Dr. Elise Fox. She probably wouldn't forget that name if… her thoughts trailed off. 'It wouldn't help if you think about that, Syd."

Dixon stood beside her. She was now looking at the floor.

"Do you want to go home, Syd?" he asked softly. Several people, maybe even hundreds, have been given the same prognosis by doctors about their sick loved ones. That fact, however, doesn't change the gravity of the news.

"Who's waiting for me at home?" Sydney answered.

They had known each other for almost eighteen years. He didn't need to hear words to know that she felt wretched. He also knew that she wouldn't cry—not yet.

Dixon wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "You need to rest."

"I know."

"Yes, but not here."

Sydney looked at him and saw his concern. Tears began to pool in her eyes and she couldn't stop them, "I don't know where to go." It dawned on her on how alone she was. Vaughn's mother now lived in France. She didn't have relatives because they're all dead.

"You could stay with us." Dixon answered. When it looked like Sydney would refuse, he added, "As your superior officer, I am ordering you to stay with us." He knew that she would find a way to turn down his invitation.

"Dixon-"

"Sydney." He interrupted, "Vaughn's still in ICU. I know that you want to be there, but you won't be allowed to go in. You need rest and you won't get it here."

After a while, she nodded her head, "Okay."

She's going to rest and tomorrow, she's going to look for the people who harmed her family.

~*~*~

_Somewhere in Asia_

The ice cubes floated listlessly on the water, and melted as the seconds passed. It was quite hot here, in this little town, but the view of the beach was spectacular. He'd been away from civilization for a long time—six years, they said.

He reached for his glass of water and lifted it to his lips. They – Katya, Sark, and that girl – freed from his stony (and apparently, well-guarded) grave. He preferred if he was rescued earlier, but he had forever to live. Six years under those boulders is going to be cheap change compared to what he was going to face.

"_You might have beaten death, Arvin. But you'll never beat me."_

Arvin Sloane smiled. Jack Bristow killed himself to bury him. But he had escaped that. So who really won that game?

He leaned back on his chair and enjoyed the view. It's nice to be outside of that place.

"It's a nice view, isn't it?"

He took a sip from his water as Katya appeared in his line of sight and sat on the chair in front of him, "Yes. Yes, it is."

She stared at him. And he stared back. After six years, he still looked like the day he last looked at himself in the mirror; he couldn't say the same for Katya Derevko. She had aged gracefully, but she still looked old. Skin was sagging and her wrinkles, more prominent, but the fierceness of her eyes didn't wane with the years.

"So, where's Ms. dela Cruz?" he asked amiably, "I haven't thanked her personally for freeing me from my grave."

Katya gave a slight shrug, "Attending to the children."

He looked at his hands. A contemplative look passed on his face, "Does she know what's she's doing? What she's about to do? The impact of it?"

"She's not naïve, Arvin. Don't let looks deceive you." She replied, "She had planned everything and every plan has a contingency plan. She has seen every possible angle of the situation and has understood it better than anyone, dead or alive."

"So much faith in so much so young." There was skepticism in his tone and he didn't try to hide it. He knew that it was impossible for someone dela Cruz's age to have so much experience, unless she's not as young as he thought her to be.

This time, she smiled that dazzling (and ambiguous) smile of hers, "She was trained well. And I know her well enough to say that my faith is not misplaced."

She didn't say a lot, but he heard something in her voice that made him want to meet dela Cruz even more.

"I see." He said, and didn't say anything else. It might make Katya even more protective of the girl if he asks more questions.

So he finished drinking his water and looked through the glass doors, farther from the white sand and cerulean ocean.

He's a patient man after all.


End file.
